


it's a shot in the dark (aimed right at my throat)

by amosanguis



Series: Sherlock and Mycroft, Smaug and Scatha [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Fluff and Angst, Love, M/M, Magic Revealed, Minor Violence, No Mary, Sherlock Series 3 Spoilers, Smaug is having none of Magnussen's bullshit, Telepathic Warfare, Telepathy, all of the love, title from a song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 11:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amosanguis/pseuds/amosanguis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m a vain and greedy creature,” Sherlock says, watching as John’s fingers skim across his skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's a shot in the dark (aimed right at my throat)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Shake It Out" by Florence + The Machine because this is now the theme for this series.

-z-

 

“How did you survive, Sherlock?” John asks.

Sherlock looks down and away.

 

-x-

 

“Smaug, one of these days you’re either going to have to leave him, or tell him the truth.”

“You’re repeating yourself, Scatha,” Sherlock plucks at a string of his violin, spits his brother’s name like a curse.

Mycroft slams the tip of his umbrella against the floor and snarls, “ _Because_ it _bears_ repeating!”  He points the umbrella at his brother as he continues, “You’re forgetting about your immortality!  You will live on and John will not!”

“I haven’t forgotten!” Sherlock is on his feet and in Mycroft’s face.  “Every time we’re together – I remember!  Sometimes it’s the only thing I can think about, so forgive me if I’m not ready to give it up!”

The door downstairs opens and Sherlock picks up John’s scent as soon as he enters.

“We’re not done,” Mycroft says, his voice low as he turns on his heel and leaves.

 _Don’t I know it_ , Sherlock says to Mycroft’s mind.

 

-x-

 

“I’m a vain and greedy creature,” Sherlock says, watching as John’s fingers skim across his skin.

“I already knew that,” John smiles, “but that’s not what I asked.  Since everyone else was in on it – I would like to know how you did it.  I’ve earned that at the very least.”

Sherlock doesn’t say anything, can’t bring himself to even after John turns away from him with a huff.

 

-x-

 

The man named Charles Magnussen is everything that Sherlock hates about humans all wrapped up into one person who reeks of sweat and arousal and greed.

“You may consider him under my protection,” Mycroft says.

“I consider you under his thumb,” and Sherlock can’t keep the disgust from his voice.  Then he adds, _we used to take men like him and watch them burn – what’s changed?_

_Just. Leave it._

“You’re disgusting,” Sherlock turns his back to his brother.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” and there’s a note of sadness that Sherlock ignores.  _Go after him, and you put John at risk._

_I can protect him._

_Even from yourself?_

Sherlock doesn’t answer.  So Mycroft leaves.

“Sherlock?”

Sherlock growls angrily at himself and brushes by John, heading towards the shower.  He still had his meeting with Magnussen to get ready for.

 

-x-

 

As soon as Sherlock hears Magnussen pull down zipper, Sherlock’s body is reacting without thought.  He slams Magnussen’s forehead into the mirror and, with a shove of his magic, he throws back the two body guards who had rushed him and John.

“Just because I have an English accent,” Sherlock’s voice deepens to the rumbling thunder of his dragon-self as he pulls Magnussen up by his lapels, “doesn’t mean that I am English; nor does it mean,” and Sherlock pulls Magnussen up closer, flashing fangs and eyes rimmed with golden reds, “that I am domesticated.”

He drops Magnussen and straightens back into his more human features.

“Tuck yourself away,” Sherlock snarls as he straightens his suit jacket, then he pauses and leans back down and brushes against Magnussen’s mind.  “You have a mind palace – that’s where you store your information.  Oh, this is going to hurt.”

And then Sherlock’s hand darts forward and he grabs Magnussen’s bleeding forehead and he dives in.

Magnussen’s palace is easier to navigate that Sherlock had thought it would be.  And once he finds the library, he grabs a book and watches as it catches fire in his hand.  Then he drops it and watches as the place burns – Magnussen pinned to the wall behind him with chains.

Then Sherlock is ascending the stairs and he pulling out of Magnussen’s mind.

When he opens his eyes, Magnussen is on his back with spittle and foam on his lips, his eyes staring vacantly up at the ceiling.

“What did you do?” John asks.  “He was screaming.”

Sherlock looks up, watches as John takes a step back and shakes his head when Sherlock tried to step towards him.  So Sherlock sits in his armchair, notes absently that the guards have run.

“I destroyed his mind,” Sherlock says as he texts Mycroft, telling him to come to the flat.  “He was the reason you were kidnapped and put into the pyre, he had something on everyone in the British government and more.  I’m honestly surprised he wasn't killed sooner.”

“What are you?” John’s voice is quiet, broken as he tries to control his emotions.

“Does it matter, John?” Sherlock asks.

“Yes, it matters!” John shouts as he rushes forward, makes sure Sherlock looks him in the eyes.  “You have done nothing but lie and trick me since you’ve come back – I think it’s time I get some answers!”

So Sherlock tells him.  He tells John about what he is, what he and Mycroft are.  He tells him about the days of dragons and orcs, of elves and dwarves, of wars over trinkets and jewels.  Sherlock tells John his real name, about the cities he desolated and the armies he’d burned.  He tells him about the centuries he slept away under a mountain filled with gold.

And John took everything in with a cold silence.  And when Sherlock was finally done, John asked, “How did you survive?  How did you survive the fall?”

Sherlock knitted his brows together in confusion – after all that he had just said, that was John’s question?  And then he realized, it was John bringing them full circle.  It was John clearing away the last of Sherlock’s half-truths.

“I have wings, John,” and the doctor just nods.  And as he stands, Sherlock says to John’s back, “I may have lied about what I am, about a lot of things, really, but I have never lied about loving you.  You believe that, don’t you?”

 “I do,” John says, puts his hand on the doorknob, “I’ll be back in a few days.”

Sherlock is still sitting there when Mycroft shows up a few minutes later.

 _Don’t say anything_ , Sherlock says, puts his hand over his eyes.

 _I wasn’t going to_ , Mycroft responds, brushing his fingertips over Sherlock’s hand – a simple touch to offer comfort or hope or whatever it was Sherlock might need.

 

-x-

 

Magnussen is sent to a psychiatric hospital.  Sometimes he screams; sometimes he cries; mostly, he’s silent.

He never talks again.

 

-x-

 

A few days turn into a few weeks and Sherlock is about to tear apart London.  But then John walks into 221B and he pulls Sherlock down for a long, slow kiss.

“I see you let our flat go to hell,” John says, but there’s a smile on his face. 

Sherlock surges forward and he’s picking John up and pushing him against the back of the door and crushing their lips together.  The kiss is all teeth and tongue and desperation.

“I didn’t think you were coming back,” Sherlock breathes against John’s neck.

“Of course I was,” and there’s a pause and a sudden mischievous light is gleaming in John’s eyes as he pushes against Sherlock, grinds their hips together and whispers, “I always come back, _Smaug_.”

The thrill of hearing his real name races down Smaug’s spine and he laugh-snarls and then they’re on their bed and John is arching up into him, fingers buried in Smaug’s hair.

 

-z-

 

End. 


End file.
